


Cut the Wires Sequence Three: Hope for My Sake You know

by Taste_is_Sweet



Series: Soldiers of Fire and Shadows [19]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brock Rumlow is a dick, Creepy Brock Rumlow, Gen, Hurt Steve Rogers, So is Hydra, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 17:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16521254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet
Summary: This time Steve didn't run towards the threat while he was effectively blinded. A human mercenary was simple, but one swipe of the giant robot suit's arm might kill him. He waited for Tony to use his repulsors and take the suit out. Only Tony didn't.Tony was still hovering, hands raised to fire. He looked untouched. Only he wasn't doing anything. It was like he'd frozen—He had frozen, Steve realized. Of course he had.





	Cut the Wires Sequence Three: Hope for My Sake You know

**Author's Note:**

> As with the two previous fics, the title comes from the beautiful [Wires by Basia Bulat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQ4pfoZjyzo&feature=youtu.be).

They went to Oklahoma first, but the Hydra bunker disguised as a Minuteman missile silo turned up nothing. All they'd found was some old, abandoned equipment, and exactly the kind of concrete, bloodstained room Illya had warned them about. There was nothing like the grisly Isolation Ward he'd rescued Bucky from during the war, and nothing like the electroshock Chair or the cryotube he'd read about. Steve wasn't sure it was worth their while, but he had Tony send the remnants of S.H.I.E.L.D. the coordinates anyway.

Alvira, Pennsylvania, was a trap. 

"I'm not going to say I told you so, but I told you so," Tony said. He hovered in the air, repeat-firing his repulsors at the sealed blast doors. All it did was leave a sooty black smear. 

"I never argued with you," Steve said, just as he heard enormous, mechanical _thuds_ coming towards them. It sounded like Tony when he walked in the suit, only louder. A lot louder.

"Incoming," he warned. He lifted his shield as the sounds got even louder and faster, as if the robot had broken into a run. Steve braced himself for the doors to fly open, but the large, thudding thing _crashed right though them_ and charged into the room.

Steve had gone through all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files on Tony Stark after the Battle of New York, wanting to understand the man better after misjudging him so badly. So he recognized the Iron Monger suit, though this was a cruder, clunkier version. It had angles and seams where the original had been smooth. The feet didn't look like they could turn into rockets, and only one massive forearm carried a minigun. There was no blue glow on the suit's chest; Whatever powered it wasn't a reactor. Hydra had obviously stolen the plans and reverse-engineered them, but they hadn't have the right tech for it. Hopefully that meant he and Tony could get out of this alive.

Steve threw his shield, watched it _spang_ uselessly off the robot suit's face. It careened off the side wall and Steve caught it and covered himself when the suit's pilot fired the gun. He remembered that deafening clatter from the street fight in D.C.: how the pinging sound rose in pitch as he ran towards the mercenary with the minigun; how glad he was that there were no civilians to be caught by a stray bullet. It was much louder now, each sound reverberating in the small room. He winced and hoped Tony's ears were adequately protected.

This time Steve didn't run towards the threat while he was effectively blinded. A human mercenary was simple, but one swipe of the suit's arm might kill him. He waited for Tony to use his repulsors and take the suit out. Only Tony didn't.

"Tony! Tony, shoot it!" Steve risked a glance to the side, in case Tony had somehow been wounded. Not much could get through the Iron Man armor, but maybe a lucky hit….

Tony was still hovering, hands raised to fire. He looked untouched. Only he wasn't doing anything. It was like he'd frozen—

He had frozen, Steve realized. Of course he had. Obadiah Stane had been a family friend, a mentor and second father to him. And he'd betrayed Tony more gleefully and violently than a worst enemy would. He'd arranged for Tony's kidnapping, then almost literally tore Tony's heart out. And then Stane had copied Tony's first suit and nearly murdered him with it, taunting him the whole time.

Tony had killed Stane with Pepper Pott's help, but that didn't mean he'd gotten over it.

Jesus Christ, this must have been his worst nightmare, like Stane had risen from the dead.

"Tony! It's not Obadiah!" Steve had time to yell before the pilot got tired of the useless bullets and charged him. It really wasn't Stane. Proof of death aside, Stane would've gone for Tony. Whoever controlled the suit definitely wanted Steve. 

Steve got his shield above his head to catch the suit's fist before it could pulverize him. The _clang_ echoed like the bullets and the impact sent Steve tumbling into the nearest wall. He hit hard, his left ribs taking the brunt. He couldn't help the grunt of pain.

"Steve!" Tony came alive all at once. He fired his repulsors at the suit, throwing off its aim for its follow-up kick and driving it a couple steps backwards. "Pull the tubes!" he shouted, then threw himself at the suit. Tony grabbed its head with one arm, then used his momentum to swing around to the robot's back, still hanging on as he yanked out fistfuls of wires.

"You fuck!" The pilot shouted. He wrapped a huge hand around Tony's head and yanked him off, throwing him to the back of the room.

Steve knew that voice.

" _Brock?_ " Steve was back on his feet, but he hesitated, momentarily stunned. Brock Rumlow was supposed to be dead, crushed beneath the smoldering ashes of the Triskelon; Sam had barely made it out of the building in time. But Brock was alive? How the hell could he be alive?

Then again, Bucky was supposed to be dead too.

No time to wonder about it. Steve ducked the swing Brock took at him, then grabbed at the flexible tube running along the back of Brock's nearer arm. He yanked it out. Liquid that might've been coolant spurted like blood.

Brock backhanded him, sending Steve flying head over heels into another wall. He lost his grip on his shield, then had to throw himself into a roll to avoid Brock stomping on him. 

Tony's repulsors hit Brock in the back and he staggered a little, before whipping around and shooting Tony with his minigun. Each ping sounded like it hurt.

Tony's reactor wasn't keeping him alive anymore, thank God, but if the reactor in his armor broke Tony might as well have been wearing a coffin. Steve jumped, kicked off the wall, then grabbed the boxy back of the suit while he ripped out another fistful of wires with his free hand. 

That _had_ to break something. But the suit still worked well enough for Brock to crush Steve against the wall. Steve's head snapped back, cracking off the concrete behind him.

"That's for dropping a building on me, you son of a bitch!" Brock snarled. "How do you like it?" He smashed Steve into the wall again, laughing at his helpless groan of pain. "Feels good, huh?"

Steve couldn't answer even if he wanted to. His lungs felt flattened. Trying to breathe was like fighting his asthma in an airless room. He could feel his ribs shift when he moved.

Tony called over their radio: "Drop!"

Brock couldn't hear that, so he just lurched forward to smash Steve again. Steve let go and dropped to the floor. Moving at all hurt like hell, but he managed to dive out of the way as Tony hurtled across the room and nailed both feet into the suit's chest. The attack drove Brock into the wall.

The suit made a sound like an iron bell. The whole thing trembled, then slid straight down to sit on the floor, legs splayed like a child. There was a crater where Brock had been standing.

Steve picked himself up, using the wall to get back to his feet. He'd never tangled with the Hulk, but had a feeling that now he knew what it felt like. His ears rang, head aching from cracking his skull. His back was a slab of white pain and his ribs were killing him, especially on the left. Every breath felt like spikes. Picking up his shield was agony; attaching it to the harness was worse.

He'd heal. The pain would fade. He'd worry about it later.

There was a pneumatic hiss as Brock's suit opened. The chest panels slid aside, jerking with the damage Tony had done. The giant robot head dropped back like a hood until it hit the wall. Brock grinned blearily at them from where the suit's chest had been. Blood was smeared over his teeth.

His face had been ravaged by burns, and now it was covered with bruises and blood. His nose was smashed. Steve was amazed he could still see through his blackening eyes.

"Hey, Cap," Brock wheezed. His voice was gruffer than Steve remembered, but that smug, mocking grin was exactly the same. "Like the suit? Ward gave me the blueprints. He's fuckin' psycho, yeah? But he sure knows where S.H.I.E.LD. kept all the cool shit." He turned his grin on Tony. "Bet it brings back some stuff, huh?"

Tony stalked forward, gauntlets revving. "How 'bout you cut the bullshit and tell us where Daredevil is?"

Brock ignored him. "You know he knew you," he said to Steve, "your pal, your buddy, your Bucky."

Steve grabbed Brock by the collar of his soaked tee-shirt and twisted it in his hand. " _What did you say?_ "

Brock just smirked, spattering blood. "He remembered you." His red grin widened. "I was there. He got all weepy about it, 'til we put his brain back in a blender."

"Shut up," Tony snapped at him. "Tell us where Daredevil is or I ventilate your suit through your head."

"Too bad he's dead, huh?" Brock went on. "That's gotta suck, knowing he's dead 'cause of you. Hey," he added in fake curiosity, "do you think he felt it, when the helicarrier crashed? Or was he already unconscious when he drowned?"

Steve made a fist and cratered the wall next to Brock's head. Brock laughed.

"Nice try, but we know he's alive, asshole," Tony said. "Last chance. Where's Daredevil? I'm not going to ask you again."

Brock looked shocked at Tony's revelation, but only for a second. Steve was sure Brock was surprised they knew about Bucky, not that he was alive. "We're gonna find him. After Ward gets done with Matty. Daredevil's gonna hunt down your buddy for us, and then when we're through with _him,_ we're gonna send him after everyone you care about. Too bad you won't be there to see the fear on their faces, or hear 'em beg for their lives. But when you gotta go, you gotta go, right?" A button slid out of his wrist housing and he slapped it clumsily with his hand. "And you're coming with me."

"Shit!" Tony grabbed Steve around the waist and blasted out of the room through the hole Brock had made in the door.

Steve cried out in pain, but the sound was lost in the roar of the explosion as it demolished the room and most of the passageway they'd just flown through. Tony kept going, rocketing down the corridor past the few unconscious bodies they'd left in their wake. When they reached the elevator shaft they'd used on the way in, he destroyed the metal car with a single shot from a gauntlet before flying them up it instead.

The concrete dome of the bunker and soil that semi-buried it were almost as easily destroyed as the elevator car, and then they were careening out into the dawn, leaving the remains of the base to collapse in the shockwave behind them.

Tony kept going in a shallow arc that finally hit the ground about a half mile away. Tony didn't land so much as flip onto his back and furrow the ground until they stopped.

Steve may have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing he was aware of was Tony mid-sentence with his faceplate up. "…Way too easy. Next time, let's just agree that minimum resistance is bad, okay? Like, really, really bad. Like, 'I'd turn back if I were you,' bad." He seemed to realize he was still holding Steve like a very large teddy bear and let go all at once. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Steve said, because 'no' might've been more accurate but wouldn't have helped. He would heal, and he could still fight. That was all that mattered. He rolled off of Tony, managing to catch himself on his hands and knees instead of landing face first in the dirt. "Just pissed off that we let Rumlow get the drop on us like that. And that Daredevil's still missing."

"Well, we both basically agreed that it was a trap going in, right? We took a gamble that Daredevil—Or Matthew, I guess? We should've asked Claire. Didn't think of it—would be there as well. A gamble we lost." Tony sat up slowly, making Steve wonder if he was hurt too. "Never thought I'd see the Iron Monger suit again." He grimaced. "Never thought I'd freeze like that either. Sorry I was so fucking useless."

Steve reached over and patted Tony's shoulder. "You had every reason to balk, Tony. And you snapped out of it when it mattered." He pulled up a tired but genuine smile. "You saved my life."

"Barely," Tony snorted in self-derision. He looked at Steve again, concern creasing his face. "You sure you're all right? He was bouncing you around like a dodge ball."

Steve winced; it wasn't too off a comparison. "He did get a couple of good hits in, but I'm fine. I'll _be_ fine," he amended at Tony's too-knowing look. "Honest. I've had worse."

Tony's flat look conveyed every ounce of his disbelief, but he let it go in favor of hauling himself to his feet instead. He held out an armored hand for Steve. "Let's pretend your 'worse' wasn't when the Winter Soldier nearly beat you to death and instead figure out where the hell we go from here."

"Sounds great," Steve said, entirely without irony. He did give Tony a small grin at his unimpressed look as he took Tony's hand. He was very careful not to wince or suck air, or show how much he needed help getting to his feet. He'd be fine. "Next is Coram Airport."

"Uh, yeah. I'm thinking no," Tony said. "It'll either be another steaming pile of nothing, or another trap. And I don't know about you, but I'm going on 36 hours with no sleep, and I know you hadn't slept for at least a couple days before Claire called about DD. Don't deny it," he went on before Steve could try. "J.A.R.V.I.S. has been programmed to rat people out for shit like that. I was going to be more subtle about it, but unfortunately that ship sailed about 36 hours ago. And that's not even mentioning how nobody's pal or buddy Brock whoever the fuck he was went to town on you like a soldier with a three-day pass."

"Brock Rumlow lead the S.T.R.I.K.E. team under my command," Steve said, ignoring Tony's admonishment about him not sleeping. Sometimes the grief hit him harder than others, that was all. Holidays were always particularly bad, and Christmastime was among the worst—"

"Steve? You okay?"

Steve blinked, realized he'd been staring into space exactly like someone who hadn't slept in over 72 hours. "I just…remembered that Bucky's not dead. I don't have to mourn him anymore."

Tony blinked back at him. "Yeah, okay. We're going back to Claire's Body Shop."

"What? Why?" Steve demanded. "Matt's still out there!"

"And you getting captured or killed because you're so tired and beat up you _forgot your boyfriend is alive_ is going to help him exactly _how,_ Steve?"

"I'm fine!" Steve snarled. "I went longer than this without sleeping during the war. I can go at least three more days before it becomes an issue."

"I really don't want to know how you know that." Tony took a breath which turned into a yawn, then flicked off a gauntlet so he could scrub his face. "God knows I don't want to be the voice of reason, here. But, we need sleep."

"We can't," Steve ground out. "There is nobody else available to help other than Illya, and we all agreed he needs to be benched so he can be there for Bucky. And Brock just confirmed our worst fears in there, before he killed himself. Whoever this Ward is, he's already had Daredevil for nearly two days. Probably more than two, depending on how much time passed between his being kidnapped and Claire calling. They could've used that electroshock machine on him at least twice already. We've wasted too much time as it is."

"Yeah, okay," Tony said after a beat. He rubbed his eyes with the fingers of his ungloved hand. "But I still say going to Coram Airport will just waste more time." He stared back in the direction of the demolished base with his hand on his chin, lost in thought. "Okay. Unless Ward's parents were really into _[Leave it to Beaver](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leave_It_to_Beaver)_ , we can probably safely assume Ward is his last name, not his first. And Brock called him a psychopath—pot, kettle, but whatever—which might be a term of endearment or might actually mean something. And he also obviously knew the guy well enough to think he could make that judgement, which means Ward was probably in S.H.I.E.L.D. too. So, J.A.R.V.I.S., find me any references to a mentally unstable S.H.I.E.L.D. double agent with the last name of Ward."

Tony summoned the Quinjet while they were waiting for J.A.R.V.I.S. to do his search, and Steve dutifully let Maria Hill know that they'd cleared the base, albeit more spectacularly than intended.

Then he tried not to lay down across the benches with too much obvious gratitude.

They were somewhere near Allentown, Steve dozing painfully, when J.A.R.V.I.S. piped up, startling the hell out of him.

"I was able to find a Grant Ward, formerly of S.H.I.E.L.D., now a Hydra fugitive, who matches the criteria of diagnosed mental instability." J.A.R.V.I.S. put an image on the small screen in the cockpit, and Steve limped in to see Ward's face.

Grant Ward was handsome, in a bland sort of way. He seemed like the kind where you couldn't see their personality unless they were moving. Then again, he was Hydra; that forgettable blandness was probably part of his act. The most notable thing about him was his dark brown hair and eyes. He looked nothing like Brock, but the coloring certainly reminded Steve of him.

"I think I might have seen him at the Hub, once," Steve said. "Good job working that out, Tony." He patted him on the shoulder. "And well done finding him, J.A.R.V.I.S.,"

"Thank you, Captain," the A.I. said.

"Yeah, well, genius here. No big." Tony shrugged off the praise as usual. It was both sad and funny that his own creation had less trouble with compliments than Tony did. "It's great that we got a smarmy face to go with that aggressively uninteresting name—no offence, Cap. You make 'Grant' cool—but, where is he, and does he have Matthew?" 

"I'm afraid I can't supply that information," J.A.R.V.I.S. said. "It's probable that, if he had access to S.H.I.E.L.D. technology, he is using a disguise to help aid in concealing his identity. The most recent whereabouts I have for him is shortly before he escaped custody in May of 2014."

"Damn it," Tony sighed from the pilot's seat. "Well, it was a longshot anyway. J, what can you—"

"Excuse my interrupting your despair, Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. said with no little asperity, "but had you allowed me to continue, I would have told you that I believe I have found something that might nonetheless be of use."

Tony blinked. "Oh. Cool. Lay it on us, J."

"As soon as you allow it, Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. said snippily. Steve didn't bother hiding his grin. "An adolescent boy was kidnapped from his home in Riverdale, New York, approximately 24 hours after Daredevil was taken. The boy's father was shot and killed."

The picture of Ward changed to that of a young man with eyes far older than his child's face. The boy had black hair, and his dark eyes were some indiscriminate color between blue and green. That aspect reminded Steve of Bucky's, whose eyes never seemed to settle between blue and grey. The boy was wearing a blue watch-style cap, that had triangles sticking up from the brim like a crown. His name was written across the bottom of the picture: **Forsythe Pendleton Jones III.** The boy didn't look at all like that should be his name.

"That's terrible," Steve said, all levity gone. "But what does it have to do with Ward or Daredevil?"

"At first, I agree that it seems as if they are unrelated," J.A.R.V.I.S. said. "But Forsythe Jones' only living relatives are in Ohio, and abductions of male children by non-relatives are rare. Therefore, on what I believe Sir would call an 'off chance', I researched Forsythe Jones' background. Apparently he was born prematurely and with a severe heart defect that he should not have survived. However, his parents were offered an 'experimental procedure' that repaired his heart. The administrating physician was Dr. Paul List." Another picture appeared on the screen.

Steve and Tony looked at each other. "Hydra," they said at the same time.

"The kid's got the Serum," Tony said. He blinked. "Holy shit, does that mean Matt does too? Is Double-D a Super Soldier?" His mouth went slack in astonishment. "Holy _shit. That's_ what the Red Peril meant, when he said Matt was his brother! They all got the Serum!" He frowned. "How the hell did Matt get the Serum?"

"Not relevant right now," Steve gritted. "J.A.R.V.I.S., did any of your research tell you where Ward _is?_ "

"I believe so, Captain," J.A.R.V.I.S. said. "While I was investigating Forsythe Jones, I took the liberty of examining the local area. Once again, there was no suspicious energy usage. However, according to recent satellite photos, there are two black Humvees parked outside the commercial sugar house on the property owned by the Blossom family of Riverdale."

"Black Humvees are a S.H.I.E.L.D. fave," Tony said.

"I agree, Sir. I also should point out that in New York, the season to harvest maple sap and refine syrup does not begin until March. Since it is January, it is somewhat irregular that the sugar house is currently being used. Further, the Humvees have not moved in over 30 hours."

"That's it. That's where they are," Tony said. "J.A.R.V.I.S., you beautiful codestack, you did it!"

"Thank you, J.A.R.V.I.S.," Steve said on an exhale of relief. This, finally, was a lead. An actual lead. One that might get them their teammate back, and hopefully rescue a teen who'd already suffered more than any child should.

"You are very welcome, Sir, Captain." J.A.R.V.I.S. sounded pleased with himself. Steve couldn't blame him at all.

He patted Tony on the shoulder again, then eased himself into the copilot's seat. He was too keyed up to sleep now, but resting would help him heal. He'd be fine.

He had to be fine; Matthew and Forsythe Jones were depending on it.

END

**Author's Note:**

> WE ARE BEGINNING THE END GAME, MY DARLINGS. I AM SO EXCITED. And not just because I've been working on this series since January of 2016. xD
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://taste-is-sweet.tumblr.com/) and say hi. ♥


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